University of Virginia Library


282

SONG.

[The wretch, O let me never know]

The wretch, O let me never know,
Who turns from Pity's tearful eye;
Who melts not at the dirge of woe,
But bids the soul renew its sigh!
O say not with the voice of scorn,
‘The lilies of thy neck are fled,
Thine eyes their vanish'd radiance mourn,
The roses of thy cheek are dead.’
Too cruel youth, with tears I own,
The rose and lily's sad decay;
And sorrowing wish for thee alone,
Their transient bloom a longer day.
Yet though thine eyes no longer trace
The healthful blush of former charms;
Remember that each luckless grace,
O Colin, faded in thy arms!